


Home

by avintagekiss24



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Children of Characters, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 05:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15965870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintagekiss24/pseuds/avintagekiss24
Summary: Steve returns home after the battle with Ultron.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for my Happy Steve Bingo card - "Children"

“You know,” Tony starts, walking slowly beside Steve as they make their way out of the Avengers compound, “I need to take a page out of you and Barton’s book.”

 

Steve chuckles, resting his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah, I mean. Pep and I just can’t find the time to settle down, you know? She doesn’t want to give up control of Stark Industries and,” He peeks out over the rims of his expensive sunglasses at the tall blonde man, “You know me.” He shrugs. 

 

Steve can’t help but smile, nodding his head in agreeance, “You do like a good party.” 

 

The playboy shrugs, cocking his eyebrow and flashing that million dollar smile that Steve knows all too well. Tony tilts his wrist toward him, illuminating the state of the art Hublot watch, “You should get home to those babies. Take the Audi.”

 

He tosses the key fob haphazardly into the air, know that Steve will undoubtedly and skillfully catch it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step before Steve calls, “I can’t, Tony. I’ve got my bike.”

 

“Live a little, will ya?”

 

“Tony-“

 

The billionaire just lifts his hand into the air, continuing his stroll toward his own vehicle, “See you when I see you old man.” 

 

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles all the way through, “Since when is a hundred old?” He calls loudly, “I feel like a teenager!”

 

“You look like one too.” 

 

Steve watches for a few minutes more as Tony jumps behind the wheel of his  _ other  _ brand new, shiny Audi and speeds off down the dirt road. His blue green eyes land on the orange Audi R8. He takes a step toward it and quirks his eyebrow toward the sky as the engine automatically roars to life. He stops, and the car rolls toward him slowly, coming to a stop right at his feet. He starts walking toward the road and the car follows slowly beside him. He stops, and so does the car. Tony and his toys. 

 

Steve slides behind the wheel and is soon twisting and turning his way through upstate New York. Autumn has fallen over the state with burnt orange and red leaves littering the ground as he burns across the pavement. He makes a left turn and makes his way down the familiar gravel road, his body relaxing as soon as their hideaway breaks into his view. It’s an old farmhouse that they are still, slowly working on, but it’s coming along. If aliens could just quit invading the city, he’d have some time to finish that playroom. He rolls to a slow stop in front of his humble abode and swings the door open, placing his feet on the grass. He lowers his head into his hands, finally taking a moment for himself. He’s home. Where he belongs.

 

He moves like a cat through the front yard and up the stairs of the porch, his heart fluttering all the while. He’s ready to hear their little voices. He steps through the front door and is met with a deafening silence. It makes him stop dead in his tracks. There’s no Spongebob from the TV, no music from the stereo, no screaming or fighting or laughing or crying. His wife’s heavy accent usually rings through the house but there’s nothing. He exhales slowly as the hair on his arms stands erect. It doesn’t feel right. He closes the door slowly behind him and immediately takes to the stairs, climbing them quickly and quietly, his ears and eyes honed in on any slight change in his atmosphere. 

 

He hits the top step and moves toward their bedroom door which is slightly ajar. His mouth drops open as his breath becomes heavy. He pushes the door with his hand slowly, the contents of his bedroom slowly being revealed to him. His closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath as his wife’s sleeping form comes into view. She’s nestled in the middle of their king sized bed, completely surrounded by their four curly headed girls. Arms and legs and hair are strewn about, intertwined with each other like vines as they slumber. He’s been out there too long this time. Silence shouldn’t scare him like this. He moves into the room and drops to his knees at the side of the bed, stretching his hand toward Okoye’s pregnant belly. Baby number five. Another girl. He rubs her belly, closing his eyes again as he tries to calm himself down.  _ You’re home Steve. You can act like it.  _

 

He pulls away from his wife and brushes some curly, light brown disheveled hair out of their youngests’ face. He smiles softly as he watches her, her pretty little lips murmuring slightly as she inhales deeply. Sarah. After his mother. She’s just barely two but is a force to be reckoned with. She’s sweet but strong, caring but intensely diplomatic. She’s an old soul. Next in line is three year old Amara; curled around her mother, her arms around her neck and chest, her sweet face buried in her mother’s neck. She takes after Steve the most. Her eyes are big and wide, a light hazel in color. Her dark, long eyelashes splay against her caramel skin as she inhales and exhales with all the calmness a person can muster. She’s tall for her age, agile, confident but shy. She’s quiet and brooding, always wanting to just do the right thing.

 

Ch’Tea and Kisani are on the other side of Okoye, nestled within each other. Twins. Their first borns. He remembers it like it was just yesterday. Okoye had been in labor for almost two days. Any longer, the doctors warned, and they had to take them out via surgery. Okoye refused adamantly. _They’ll come when they come._ _It’s up to them._ They handed him his babies just as that beautiful Wakandan sunset broke through the sky. That feeling of having them, his babies, something he helped create, in his arms was indescribable and irreplaceable. He’s done so many things, incredible things, otherwise impossible things. He’s been to so many places, seen more than what the history books can describe, but nothing holds up to that moment. Not even punching Adolf Hitler. He’d never known love; a true love, a lasting, living, breathing love until he met Okoye, but, he never knew an _unconditional_ love, an _unprovoked_ love, until he held those babies in his hands. _His_ babies. 

 

He stands, shedding out the of the last remnants of Captain America and tosses them to the floor. It’s time to be daddy. He shrugs into his sweatpants and moves to the other side of their large crowded bed, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. He pats Bingo’s head, the chihuahua/terrier mix that wandered out the woods and into their backyard a few months ago, as he too sleeps comfortably at the end of the bed. Steve climbs over the small bodies of Ch’Tea and Kisani, his weight dipping the mattress as it creaks and squeaks under the added pressure. He settles next to his wife and brushes his lips over her forehead, closing his eyes again as he lets his body relax. He pulls the twins into him, pressing their warm bodies to his as his exhaustion quickly catches up with him. 

 

A hand slinks around his neck protectively and her long fingers dig into his blonde hair, “I think I like Dolores for the little one.”

 

Her voice is soft and sleepy, wafting over him like a warm breeze. He chuckles lightly, replacing his hand on her budding stomach, “It’s growing on you, huh?” He whispers back.

 

She shrugs, never opening her eyes as she continues to massage his head lightly. She rests her free hand on Amara’s arm that’s slung across her chest as a smile spreads on her lips, “Yeah. Dolores Azzuri Rogers.”

 

He’s quiet for a few moments, letting the name move around his brain before he starts to give in to the sleep, “It’s perfect.” He exhales.

 

Sarah begins to stir beside her mother, humming softly as her father's voice breaks into her subconscious. She sits up quickly, rubbing at her eyes furiously before swiping her small, chubby hand across her forehead. She turns her head, her eyes still half closed as she begins to whine softly, “Mama…”

 

“Shhhh,” Steve coos softly, opening his eyes slightly as he tries to calm her, “It’s okay baby girl.”

 

“Daddy.” She reaches for him, extending her arms and flexing her fingers toward him, “Hol’ me daddy.”

 

Steve obliges, sitting up a little to pull her gently over her sleeping sister and mother. He finds a small space between himself, Okoye, and Ch’Tea and Kisani, and settles her down, draping his large arm over the three of them, “My sweet, sweet Sarah baby.” He whispers, tickling her stomach and smiling as her little giggle fills the quiet room, “You like the name Dolores?”

 

She nods sleepily, twisting her body to face her sleeping twin sisters and father, “You like, daddy?”

 

“I do.”

 

“You mama?”

 

Okoye nods softly, “I love it.”

 

“Then I like too. You pick middle?”

 

“Azzuri.” Okoye answers, “You know who that is?”

 

“Nuh uh.” The young girl answers as she lifts Steve’s hand in the air, intertwining her little fingers with his before tracing the lines on his palm. 

 

“That is your uncle T’Challa’s grandfather.” Steve answers, pulling her hand toward his lips to kiss every last one of her chubby fingers, “He was a king.”

 

“And he was the fiercest Black Panther there ever was. He never lost a battle.” Okoye finishes, “Uncle T’Challa loved him dearly.”

 

Sarah brings her father’s hand to her own lips and plants a kiss in his palm, smiling as she’s rewarded with a chuckle from him. The young girl yawns sweetly and cuddles into her sisters, rubbing her hand against Steve’s skin as she drifts back into a peaceful sleep. Okoye turns her head toward his and plants a small kiss on the tip of his nose as best she can, “You’re home now, right?” She questions, her voice still soft, “No more avenging until after Dolores is here?”

 

“I’m all yours, doll.”

 

She smiles again. He returns a soft kiss on her cheek and nuzzles into Kisani’s hair as Ch’Tea wraps her small hand around his bicep. The parents drift off to sleep again, comfortable and warm, surrounded by their babies.   
  
  



End file.
